


staring straight (into the shining sun)

by VermilionRed



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Blow Jobs, Hair Washing, Hand Jobs, Immortal Husbands Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, M/M, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:28:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25558858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VermilionRed/pseuds/VermilionRed
Summary: After they drive away from Merrick's lab, they stop at a safehouse to clean up and rest.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 39
Kudos: 536





	staring straight (into the shining sun)

There’s still blood and brain matter caked into the hair on the back of Nicky’s head, and Joe can’t take his eyes off of it. There are bullet holes and bloodstains on Nicky’s shirt, too, but there, at least he can see healed skin underneath. The back of his head still looks like a carnage.

The safehouse they drove to is less of a house and more of an underground hole, but it has a bathroom and an endless supply of steamy hot water. Nile dragged Andy in there the moment they arrived, muttering about wounds and mortality and why did she have to run off on her own, wielding only a fucking fire axe anyway? They’ve been in that small bathroom for at least half an hour now, but at least the sounds of Andy complaining and hissing through pain are now replaced with the sound of the shower running.

Booker sits collapsed in a chair next to what is supposed to be the kitchen table, face buried in his hands, unmoving. Joe glares at him, but then goes back to staring at the blood on Nicky’s head. He’s itching to wash it off, but the shower is still running and there is absolutely no way he’s doing that at the kitchen sink.

Nicky, bless his heart, has washed his arms up to his elbows and is now halfheartedly stirring a pot of soup at the small stove, three opened soup cans next to him on the counter. Most of their safehouses are stocked with better food, but they haven’t been to this one in years. Joe contemplates the expiry dates of canned soup for a second, but then decides that there must be enough preservatives in those to last through the apocalypse. They’ve survived on worse before. As if hearing his thoughts, Nicky turns to him.

“Remember when we ended up roasting rats for dinner in Prague?”

Joe snorts. “I wish I didn’t.”

Nicky smiles at him, a glint of tired mischief in his eyes.

“You should have said sooner, I would have picked the chicken instead of rat for the soup.”

“Oh please tell me that is not actually rat soup,” comes Nile’s voice from the bathroom doorway. “I am starving, now that I have time for it.”

She helps Andy to a chair and goes to peer into the pot. Satisfied with the sight, she starts opening cupboards and drawers in a search for bowls and spoons. Joe switches from staring at Nicky to staring at Andy. She looks marginally better now, but that might just be the lack of blood and sweat and soot. There are purple shadows under her eyes, and she is looking in Booker’s direction, but not _at_ him. Apparently, they are not addressing the elephant in the room yet.

Nile and Nicky ladle up the soup and distribute the bowls. Nile glares at Andy and Booker until they start eating, and plops down on the last free chair afterwards with her bowl.

Joe stands next to the counter an inhales his soup, uncaring that it scalds his tongue and mouth. It heals in a few minutes anyway, and then drums his fingers on his thighs, watching Nicky eat. The moment he’s done, Joe is grabbing him by the arm, dragging him into the bathroom, pushing the door shut with a foot. Nicky smiles at him, tired and amused, and lets Joe undress him with practiced efficiency.

He steps into the shower and starts the water while Joe undresses. Nicky closes his eyes and turns his face into the stream. It’s still scalding hot, because if there is one thing to be said in favour of this safehouse, it’s the endlessness of the hot water. He does not bother moving until Joe finally joins him, and even then only to wrap his arms around Joe’s waist and drop his head on his shoulder. Nicky is tired, so tired, the exhaustion of the recent events finally catching up with him, so he lets Joe take control.

For a few minutes, they just stand there, embracing under the shower, but then Joe gently lets go to grab the cheap, generic supermarket shampoo to finally get rid of the blood and brain matter in Nicky’s hair. The water swirls red around their feet, and he needs to shampoo twice to get all the dirt and gunk out. There’s no conditioner here, and Joe grumbles about it under his breath, because Nicky deserves better, Nicky deserves the best. Joe grabs the bottle of body wash that claims to smell of ocean waves but fails miserably, and gently starts cleaning the rest of the blood and dirt off Nicky. He kisses every bit of skin after the suds wash away, cherishing the supple warmth and the heartbeat beneath.

Nicky is half-hard by the time Joe sinks to his knees to wash his legs, blinking down contently. They both know it’s more of a reaction to kind touch than an actual want, and Nicky would be just fine with just going to sleep after the shower, but Joe still takes him in hand, bites gently at his thighs, gently strokes his free hand up Nicky’s side.

Nicky sighs and lets his head drop back, one hand falling to Joe’s head, the other grasping the hand on his waist. Joe gives a squeeze to his hand, kisses his way up Nicky’s thigh, across his hipbone, and finally, finally licks a stripe up his cock.

Nicky groans, fingers tightening in Joe’s hair, urging him forward, because they are alive, and they both died way too many times in the past few days. Joe closes his eyes and relishes in the feeling of Nicky’s fingers in his hair, his cock in his mouth, warm and heavy, salty with pre-cum. He takes it slow, committing to memory every gasp and groan, every small, keening sound, barely audible over the shower. Joe is hard, but his hands belong on Nicky’s body now, not his own. It makes him feel alive, and he hollows his cheeks, sucks Nicky deeper, and moans into it.

Nicky makes a choked-off sound, fingers pulling on Joe’s hair in warning, and then he’s coming, breathless and shaking. Joe swallows it all, sucks him through it, only releasing him when Nicky nudges his shoulder.

“Vieni qui,” he croaks, and Joe rises slowly, kissing his way up Nicky’s chest, his neck, his jaw. Plants kisses all over Nicky’s face, making him giggle. Joe leans into him, and they are touching from their toes to their lips, Joe’s erection pressing into Nicky’s hips. Their eyes meet, and Nicky pulls Joe in for a kiss, fingers skirting down Joe’s stomach to wrap around his cock, and it is bliss. Joe crowds Nicky into the shower wall, kisses him again before dragging his lips back down to his neck, scraping his teeth against the soft skin, feeling his pulse.

They’ve done this countless times, in safehouses, in their own temporary homes, after missions, on lazy mornings, and yet it still feels like the first time, it still feels like a blessing. They know every bit of skin, every freckle, and all the ways to make each other insane with want. Nicky moves his hand slowly, drags his thumb across the head of Joe’s cock, whispers sweet nothings in a mindless jumble of languages, and Joe loves him with every inch of his being. He feels close, so close, and Nicky knows, because he’s picking up speed, free hand in Joe’s hair again. For an endless moment, Joe feels suspended in air, breath catching, and then he’s biting down on Nicky’s shoulder to muffle his moan as he comes. Nicky strokes him through it, and releases him when it’s just this side of too much, wrapping both arms around Joe.

“We should probably get out now,” he says with a wry smile. Joe raises his head, watches the bite mark fade. He wishes it would stay there longer, to mark Nicky as his own.

“I’m already yours,” Nicky murmurs, because of course he knows why Joe is staring.

They shut off the water and dry off quickly. There are toothbrushes wrapped in plastic under the sink, and they lean against each other as they brush their teeth. They realise there’s nothing for them to change into, and Nicky shrugs, wraps the towel around his waist and wanders out of the bathroom to find some clothes that are not torn, bloody, or denim, because he’s not sleeping in denim again, thank you. Joe watches him go, gaze drawn to the back of Nicky’s head. There’s no blood now, only soft hair, darkened by water.

He follows Nicky, almost forgetting about his towel. Normally, neither of them would give a damn, but Nile is new, and they don’t want to make her feel uncomfortable. She’s now lying on top of the covers on a bed next to Andy, who is fast asleep. She rolls her eye at the cloud of steam that follows them out of the room, and turns her back to them when they start to dress.

Joe looks around, spots Booker sprawled in an armchair, and turns back to Nicky with a huff. They climb into the narrow cot they call a bed, and Nicky puts a loaded gun under his pillow like always. They slot together easily, Nicky’s back to Joe’s front, legs tangled under the thin blanket. Joe pushes his hand under Nicky’s shirt, rests his palm over his heart. Nicky turns his head to look back at him, smiling, and Joe has to kiss him again, just because he can. Nicky makes a small sound and turns to face Joe, one hand coming up to cup his face. Joe removes his hand from Nicky’s shirt to pull him closer, and leans in to kiss him deeply, licks into his mouth to taste him. He lets his hand wander down, fingers slipping under the waistband of Nicky’s sweatpants, when Nile pointedly clears her throat, and they break apart, giggling like teenagers.

Nile looks over at them with a fond smile, and shakes her head before turning back towards Andy. Nicky burrows down to tuck his head under Joe’s chin, wrapping an arm around him with a tired, content sigh. Joe strokes his back and even rocks them gently, and Nicky smiles into his chest, humming. Joe can tell the exact moment Nicky succumbs to sleep, breathing evening out, his entire body relaxing. Joe pulls him closer, presses a kiss into his hair, and closes his eyes.

Tomorrow, they will have to deal with Booker’s betrayal. Tomorrow, they will have to consider Andy’s mortality. But for now, for at least a few hours, they can be at peace.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on [Tumblr](https://mercurysulfite.tumblr.com/)!  
> Title taken from [the Pink Floyd song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tC8631Kqzb0).


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